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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619818">Slip inside the eye of your mind, don’t you know you might find a better place to stay?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oscarjames/pseuds/Oscarjames'>Oscarjames</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Arthur Pendragon - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Merlin - Freeform, Merthur - Freeform, Slow Burn, There is violence and injury, bbc merlin - Freeform, but it’s not very graphic I don’t think, but there are descriptions of the injuries and blood too, i guess, im not entirely sure how this works, is that enough? probably, merlinxarthur - Freeform, merthur fluff, this is my first fic i hope people like it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:16:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619818</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oscarjames/pseuds/Oscarjames</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I’m not entirely sure when this is set, Uther is still king but the Knights of the Round Table have been formed. Arthur realises Merlin has magic and has to deal with this discovery. It’ll all turn out alright, I promise.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>205</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The start of the adventure (and drama!)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   Arthur mounts the saddle and leads the knights out of Camelot. There was news of a Saxon attack at the West border, it is probably nothing much, but it must be checked out all the same, by orders of his father. The prince takes a few knights and (obviously) his servant to assess the damage. As they exit Camelot’s gates, Merlin rides up next to Arthur</p><p><br/>“Are you sure we should be going? Saxons can be dangerous and-“</p><p>“Merlin, I’m pretty sure all these Saxons did was steal some grain from a village- they’re hardly a massive threat”</p><p>“Then why are we going?”</p><p>“Because, you pillock, the king has a duty to protect his subjects and cannot be seen as ignoring or neglecting them. They deserve some form of compensation and we must make sure an attack does not happen again.”</p><p>“If it’s the king’s duty why doesn’t he do it?”</p><p>“Merlin- you can’t just- that’s treason- you have no right”</p><p>“Ok, but why doesn’t he do it?”<br/><br/>“Because he’s too important, his life can’t be put at risk”<br/><br/>“But yours can?”</p><p>“That’s irrelevant”</p><p><br/>   They ride for a few more hours through forest, in that time, Gwaine manages to fall asleep on his saddle twice and both times Percival throws quite a large stick at his head. Unsurprisingly, it works both times, albeit giving them quite a grumpy, sleepy Gwaine.</p><p><br/>“Let’s make camp, it’s getting late and if we set off at first light, we should make it to the village by midday tomorrow” Arthur says as they reach a clearing.</p><p>   They do. Upon their arrival, the village’s children run up to the horses, laughing.</p><p>“I do hope you were not too damaged by the attack,” Arthur says as he dismounts his horse</p><p>“It was quite frightening, but, fortunately, all they took was crops. We should be fine to make it through the winter months.” A woman, holding a baby to her chest, says</p><p>“All the same- I shall give you some monetary compensation to rebuild and we will make sure the patrols monitor your area”</p><p>“Thank you, sure, that is very good of you.”</p><p>“And thank you for coming!” A voice pipes up</p><p>“Yes. We are very grateful,” a man, seemingly the elder of the town approaches “We do not have much to give, but please take our offer of hospitality. We wish to house and feed you for the night as a token of our gratitude.”</p><p>“Thank you, it would be very welcome.”</p><p>“So you are capable of being nice” Merlin whispers to Arthur, who responds by elbowing him in the ribs. Hard. “Wanker”</p><p>“I heard that”</p><p>“I know”</p><p> </p><p>   The next day, after bidding farewell to the people of the village, Arthur, Merlin, and the knights are on their way back to Camelot.</p><p><br/>“See Merlin, nothing went wrong”</p><p><br/>“There’s still time”</p><p><br/>   And at that exact moment, roughly thirty bandits descend on them from all sides. Merlin manages to give Arthur an ‘I told you so’ look before all hell breaks loose. They are outnumbered five to one and though the bandits’ duelling is nowhere near as skilled as the knights, it is far more brutal. Merlin backs away from the fight, watching as the knights become more and more desperate. Suddenly, three bandits approach Arthur, on top of the one he is already fighting. On pure instinct Merlin lights up his eyes and breaks a branch from a tree above, crushing the three men. For a split second Arthur looks at Merlin with a shocked look, but he can’t have seen, can he?</p><p>   Arthur saw Merlin’s eyes glow and he would have called it a trick of the light had a branch not fallen at that exact moment and landed on three bandits about to attack him. He turns away from his servant and quickly impales the man in front of him. He moves on to the next, but he is not focused. Luckily, a sword is but an extension of his body at this point. As he and the knights manage to defeat the bandits, he can think of nothing but the glow of his manservant’s eyes. Merlin can not be a sorcerer. He can’t be.</p><p><br/>“Make camp here for tonight, we are all tired it will do better to rest. Let’s eat then I’ll take first watch.”</p><p><br/>   After dinner, as all the others ready their bedding, Arthur sits on a log by the dying embers of the fire. They are the same colour as Merlin’s eyes were.</p><p><br/>“Arthur, are you ok?” It’s Merlin.</p><p><br/>“Mmhm” Arthur avoids looking up. He cannot see Merlin, not right now.</p><p><br/>“You sure? You look quite tired. I can take first watch if you like.”</p><p><br/>“No. Go to bed, Merlin”</p><p><br/>“Are you-“</p><p><br/>“Go to bed, Merlin” his voice is stern.</p><p><br/>“Okay.” He begins to walk away “Good night,” he stops “You do know it’s alright for you to have emotions, right. Even princes are allowed to feel things, no matter what your father says”</p><p><br/>“Do not speak ill of the king”</p><p><br/>   Later, the others sleep and Arthur tries to reason with himself. Merlin cannot be a sorcerer. He’s Merlin. He’s stupid. He’s an arsehole (a very nice, good looking arsehole though). He’s not a sorcerer. Arthur would know. Merlin can’t keep any secrets, let alone one as big as this, and certainly not from Arthur.<br/>And, yet, since Merlin arrived there has been an awful lot of odd little coincidences, particularly around Arthur. Tree branches just like today, falling at exactly the right time. Swords burning their knights. Horses tripping. Reigns breaking. People falling over suddenly. And always when Merlin was watching. Every time, Arthur would pass it off as luck. Chance. But, so many times? Was it really possible one man could be saved so many times by pure coincidence? Of course he’d questioned them before, whether an admirer in the crowd at a tournament was protecting him. Or someone in the castle. But not Merlin. Never Merlin. Merlin wouldn’t betray him. Merlin would never betray him. He was sure of one thing, absolutely, and that was that he could trust Merlin. So Merlin could not be a sorcerer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>First chapter! I hope the ending of this isn’t too abrupt. I wasn’t sure when to finish the chapter; I wanted to initially write it in one but I don’t really have the time</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next morning, Merlin arrives in Arthur’s chambers as usual. Except, as is most certainly not usual, Arthur is already up, dressed, washed, and at his desk. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sire.” Merlin says upon his entrance.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur does not look up. “The stables need cleaning and you should tend to the horses.” Merlin does not move. “ Now.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But, Arthur, your breakfast.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve eaten.” It’s not true but he really does not want to be in a room with Merlin right now. He’ll sort something out.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll go to the stables then.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Merlin,” Arthur says as he leaves, still not looking at his desk. Merlin looks up. “I’m a prince, remember, address me like one.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin has been calling Arthur Arthur for years, practically since they met. Of course, occasionally it’s been ‘My Lord’ or ‘Sire’ but mostly for comedic purposes or when he really had to, like when Uther was there. But normally, when it was just them? It was always Arthur. Always. Because they were friends. At least they were supposed to be. At least, Merlin thought they were. Perhaps Arthur did not feel the same. Perhaps that bandit attack hurt Arthur more than he was letting on. Perhaps it was something else, but Merlin, for the life of him, could not think what.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The entire day, after Merlin returns from a job, Arthur sends him away to another part of the castle to do another. The jobs differ but one variable does not: they are all as far away from Arthur as possible. As much as he says he hates it, Merlin does quite like one aspect of his job and that’s being with Arthur. Without that it’s awful. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For the next week it is the same. Stables, kitchens, courtyard, anywhere but where Arthur is, and every morning Arthur is dressed, fed, washed and awake. There’s no more banter. No more talking whatsoever except for Arthur to give commands and Merlin to say “Yes, sire.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur does miss Merlin. He really does. Though it pains him to admit, he does quite enjoy Merlin’s presence. It’s warm and comforting. It’s been years since Arthur spent a day without Merlin and it is incredibly odd. But he didn’t have much choice, did he? How could he be friends with a sorcerer? And how could he spend time with Merlin without being friends? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next morning when Merlin arrives to be given his duties, Arthur’s bed is empty, and he’s not anywhere in his room either. And Merlin panics. He could be anywhere, he’s not been himself recently, something could have happened to him, he could have been hurt, he could have hurt himself, he could have been killed. He could have-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Merlin?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s Arthur. He was just getting breakfast. He’s fine. He’s alive. He’s alright. He’s uninjured.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t know you cared so much.” Banter? Jokes? Friendship behaviour? “Here is what you need to do today.” Perhaps not. He hands Merlin a list. This is one step further away from friends, now Merlin won’t even see him to be given his next task. He leaves.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur looks up to watch Merlin go. He could pretend he didn’t know about the magic. He could go back to what his life had been, when it was easy and happy and had Merlin in it. But his servant’s very existence goes against everything he’d ever been taught, all the morals he’d ever been given, the laws on which he was brought up. Everything he’d ever known. His entire upbringing. The kingdom which he would one day rule. His father. He couldn’t exactly betray all that for one boy. One servant. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And what’s more, Merlin <em>lied</em>. The whole time. How can he trust a man who has lied to him time and time again? How can he spend all his time with a man who he hardly knows really? He <em>thought</em> he knew Merlin. He thought he understood him. He thought Merlin was the oneperson he could completely trust and believe, whose morals and motives were always good, who would always tell the truth. Apparently everything he knew was wrong.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What exactly was wrong with Arthur? It couldn’t have been the bandits. It couldn’t. The villagers had all been happy and alive. Nothing had happened. So what had made Arthur go from light hearted and friendly to cold and on edge. In fact he was quite similar to the Arthur Merlin first knew, albeit slightly less arrogant and slightly more sad. And there certainly was something entirely sad about Arthur’s whole demeanour since the bandits. His eyes were darker, his body more slouched, his face more downward and he looked nowhere but the ground. Apparently he was slightly better at training but, Gwaine said, his attacks were sloppier and much more violent, his hits were harder but less aimed. He was not himself. Whatever caused it certainly wasn’t something Arthur has dealt with before. In all the time Merlin had known him, he’d never been nearly as down as now.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space">  This couldn’t </span>last forever and Arthur knew that. Either he had to forget about magic, maybe Merlin would tell him in his own time, or he had to tell Merlin he knew. The former option was unrealistic and Arthur knew that, there was no way he could ignore the fact that his closest friend was a sorcerer. But the latter? If he told Merlin that he’d found out he’d have to decide what he was going to do. He’d have to make the decision that, really, was the worst part of it all. He couldn’t kill Merlin. He couldn’t. That wasn’t an option, but what could he do?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin has to talk to Arthur. He had to. Something was wrong and Arthur wasn’t telling anyone, something had happened and, clearly, he needed to talk about it, otherwise he’d be like that forever and Merlin didn’t think he’d be able to deal with that. So, that evening, after having mucked our the stables, washed and dried Arthur’s laundry, tended to the horses, polished all the mail in the armoury and gone into town and had Arthur’s boots fixed, Merlin decided he’d going to go and talk to Arthur. At some point there going to have to talk and surely sooner is better than later?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has to find Merlin. He has to find Merlin and tell him. Tell him what happened, what he knows, what he saw. Why they suddenly went from friends to Arthur doesn’t know what. Except he can’t stand up. His legs aren’t listening to his brain, or perhaps his brain isn’t listening to him. Whatever it is, he is unable to stand up from the edge of his bed. He has to tell merlin. He has to. But when he does it’s acceptance, it’s an end point and everything finally becomes real. Which is exactly what Arthur’s been trying to avoid the whole time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door opens.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Arthur, we need to talk, something’s happened. I know it has and I know you don’t want to but you will have to ta-“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have magic.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Bit of a cliffhanger, sorry. Things should get better and happier, but it may take a while. I hope you liked it, please leave comments, criticism is absolutely welcome (I’m trying to improve)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A Conversation.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have magic”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And with those three words, Merlin’s entire world stops and stands still. His ears ring and his limbs freeze. He knows. He knows. He </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">knows</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sit down next to me.” He gestures to the bit of bed next to him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin walks over and takes a seat, his arms are tucked in and his legs crossed. He looks away from Arthur. <br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/><br/>He </span>
  <span class="s2">knows</span>
  <span class="s1">. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur speaks slowly, “I saw you, when the bandits attacked, I saw your eyes light up just before that branch fell, before it hit the bandits who were going to kill me, I saw your eyes go yellow and your mouth move like you were speaking, but it wasn’t English, I could see that, and I tried to pretend it was a trick of the light but I know it wasn’t, I tried to convince myself but I can’t anymore, I couldn’t for very long. There were just too many coincidences, too many falling branches and dropped swords. Too many things that were far too lucky and far too unlikely for it to just be chance, and all since you arrived. You have magic. I know. You do, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin manages to nod but he doesn’t look up from the ground. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Neither of them move, there’s a gap between them of half a meter, far more than normal. The silence lasts a minute before Arthur talks, softly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You lied.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I had to, Arthur, I had to, I didn’t want to but-“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought we were friends but all that time you were lying to me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry, I am, but I needed to, Arthur-”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I trusted you. With everything. I cared about you. I </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">care</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> about you, but you just... you just lie to me, every single day. All that time we spent together, everything we did, and I never knew who you were. Not really.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m still the same person. I’m still me, Arthur.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You lied to me,” he’s not quiet anymore, in fact he’s quite close to shouting, if only he wasn’t so close to crying as well, “You lied to me, Merlin, you lied, over and over and over and over again. You lied.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Arthur, I’m sorry, I really am, but I didn’t have much choice, I’ve seen what your father does to sorcerers. I was scared.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You didn’t really think I’d kill you, did you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The first thing I saw when I came to Camelot was a man being executed- beheaded- for having magic. I thought it was a celebration or a party, everyone standing in the street, cheering, but they were excited because a man, a man like me, was about to be killed. That was the first thing I saw here. Your father stood there in his balcony commanding this man to die because he had magic. Can you blame me for being afraid?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur doesn’t speak.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How many times have you used magic when I was there?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Countless, more than I know; but, Arthur, you have to understand, everything I’ve done it has been for you. Every time I used magic was to help you, to save you. I would never, </span>
  <span class="s2">never</span>
  <span class="s1">, use magic to hurt you. Please, trust me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How can I when you’ve lied this whole time?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin opens his mouth to speak then pauses. They’re both looking at one another, their eyes locked together, tears on both their faces, red on both their cheeks. Merlin has never once seen Arthur looking this hurt. After everything he’s been through and everything he’s seen, and </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">this</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> is what truly breaks him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you going to do to me?” He’s quiet and tentative and scared, had the room not been silent, Arthur would not have heard him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know, Merlin, I don’t know, I think I just need some time. I think it’s probably best if you take a bit of time off, run errands for Gaius or something, I don’t know, I need to think, I need to decide what I’m going to do.” He pauses, “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin stands up, then stops. He turns back to Arthur, his voice pleading, “Please, whatever you do, don’t tell your father, please. I don’t want to die.” He’s desperate and broken and that breaks Arthur</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He rests his hand on Merlin’s arm, steadying himself with the act too, and, in a voice so raw that it could be nothing but the truth, says “I would never hurt you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Merlin walks away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did you like it? Please tell me what you think and anyways I could make it better. Criticism is always good!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bit of the knights and some fatherly Gaius (I haven’t taken enough advantage of any of the other characters yet. Gwen will feature in the next chapter)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur doesn’t move for longer than he could count and when he does it’s only to lie back in his bed. He doesn’t sleep that night, his eyes don’t even close except to blink, he only stares at the ceiling of his bed and cries. Constant, flowing, silent tears, burning on his cheeks. His eyes don’t seem to run dry, even after hours, perhaps because his entire life tears and crying had been wrong and to be stopped. He’d never really cried, not properly. It wasn’t allowed. He was breaking far more of his father’s rules than he’d like. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything is far too loud and bright for Merlin. As he walks down the corridor, his footsteps echo on his eardrums and the, normally dim, light of the candles burns his retinas. It takes every gram of energy that he can muster to not cry or collapse, to just keep going until he’s back in his room. Just keep going. Not much further. Nearly there. Please, he begs himself.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once he does reach his room, he </span>
  <span class="s2">breaks</span>
  <span class="s1">, utterly and completely. He falls to the ground immediately and curls up; head between his bent knees and arms wrapped around them, on the cold stone floor. And he weeps. Tears that flow with unrelenting pace and blocking out everything. Everything that happened, all his thoughts, his possible future. It’s just the tears. He can’t stop them. Maybe he really is broken, maybe he’ll never be fixed, maybe he’ll never be able to function again. Maybe he’s being far too dramatic for his own good. Although, to be fair, there’s quite a high chance that, very soon his life will be turned entirely upside down and, frankly, destroyed. Arthur wouldn’t do that, would he? Surely not. Certainly not if he cared for Merlin as much as Merlin cared for him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Neither boy sleeps that night.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next morning, as the sunlight begins to bleed into Arthur’s room, he forces himself to stand up. His feet feel as though they never held up a weight so great and his head hangs as though it were made from lead attached to a neck of string. He has ruined everything. He has ruined all that was good in his world, he has destroyed it and burned it and thrown the ashes to the sea. He has lost everything that he cared for and it’s his fault.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At the same time, Merlin slowly rose his head from his position on the cobbled floor to look out the small window in his room. Could this be the last time he sees the kingdom which he had called home for these past years? Arthur has promised not to kill him, but exile was still an option. Could Merlin survive away from here, away from everything he’d grown to love, away from Gwen, away from the knights, away from Gaius, away from </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Arthur</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur dresses himself slowly, every movement a chore. He has felt this before: an ache in every muscle and joint, except in the past it’s been after a difficult battle or long journey and he’s always had someone (Merlin) to turn to, now it’s his mind and it’s destroying him. The clock on his wall tells him that, at the rate he’s going, he can not do anything except dress himself if he wants to be on time for practice and, considering he’s supposed to lead the knights by example, being late isn’t really an option. He doesn’t see the reflection of his face when he leaves.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“God, Arthur, you look like hell-“ Gwaine breaks off as Percival steps, with a lot of force, on his foot.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am just fine, Gwaine, thank you. Let’s start.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sire, are you sure?” Leon asks quietly, “Though Gwaine didn’t phrase it eloquently, the point he made was valid, you do look unwell. It may benefit you to cancel practice just this once.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As I said Leon, I am in perfect health.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We don’t mind you know?” Elyan adds, “In fact I’m sure we’d all be grateful for a day off, we’ll come back fighting stronger tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It is not like a knight to wish to be lazy.” Arthur says, harsh and blunt, and quite unlike him nowadays.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He begins to unsheathe his sword and once again, Leon walks up to him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Leon, I know you mean well, but really I am fine and if we could all just get on with practice-“ He pauses.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His reflection in his sword is not one he recognises, though it is distorted, he can clearly make out bright red rims on his eyes and dark purple circles around them. His hair is rough and his face very pale. Maybe all the recent events have had more of a physical effect than he thought. Maybe practice isn’t the best idea.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We are all tired, rest is probably a good idea.” Percival says tentatively.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Perhaps you’re all right, perhaps I’m pushing myself, and all of you too far, rest for today. Though, Gwaine,” He forces his tired mouth to smile, “Don’t go to the tavern, training will begin again tomorrow and I expect <em>all</em> of you, and myself, to be fighting fit. Understood?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He is met by a chorus of “Yes, sire”s and that is all he needs to be on his way. He hadn’t even done very much and yet his legs are feeling weak and his head foggy. On his way back to his chambers, he has to stop and hold a wall for balance more times than he’d care to share in order to not collapse.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin doesn’t stand up until Gaius knocks on his door at about 10.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Merlin? Should you not be with Arthur?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Upon the lack of response, he opens to door, too see Merlin curled up on the ground, his face hidden from view.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Merlin? Merlin?” Panic rises in his voice. “Merlin, what’s happened?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He knows, Gaius, he found out.” Merlin says, his voice muffled by his arms and legs.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who? Arthur? Arthur found out about, what- your magic?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin nods slightly and with that Gaius places a hand on his shoulder. Merlin looks up. Gaius gestures wordlessly for him to sit on the bed, they sit next to each other.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How did he find out?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He saw me. I was stupid and reckless and everything you told me not to be but he would have died if I hadn’t and he can’t, not yet, I couldn’t risk it, Gaius, and I had to, but he saw me and he put it all together and worked it out and, Gaius, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, it’s my fault, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He breaks down into sobs.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whatever are you apologising for?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For not listening to you, for ruining it all, for everything, everything.” His words are broken by his tears.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have absolutely nothing to apologise to me to for, and what you did was right, Merlin. I berate you so often because I knew you were smart and resilient and skilled but most of all I know that you have a good heart, a truly good heart, one so good it only appears every few centuries, so trust me when I say, you made no mistakes, Merlin.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can say that but I still risk exile or... or worse.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Arthur would never do that to you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, he wouldn’t kill me, he promised that. But who knows what he’ll do. He told me to take some time off so he could think.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Arthur cares for you, greatly, perhaps more greatly than either of you realise. I think that without you he would not survive and I do not mean that just because you’ve saved his life from violent threats. He will realise that, he may have done already, but he will need time. This fact has shaken his entire view of the world. Uther conditioned him a certain way his entire life and having nearly every moral you’ve ever been taught be overturned is not something easy for a person. Especially not someone with such repressed emotions.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin laughs a little at the last comment. “Maybe. I hope so.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It will get happier soon, I promise, I just think both characters would meet time to process what happened. I hope you’re enjoying it! Please let me know how you feel.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I think this one may be slightly rushed but I wasn’t entirely sure how to make it not seem so. This is where the action begins!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">   There is not in fact, practice the next day, but there is a perfectly valid reason, which even Arthur couldn’t avoid, for that. There was a sudden attack in the Northern Territory, a man arrived in the small hours of the morning and told the court of his village’s situation, thus a crisis council meeting was immediately called. Arthur’s presence was required.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I suspect sorcery is at play.” Yes, of he course he does, he always does, Arthur thinks. Anything went wrong and, anytime Arthur could remember, his father blamed magic. It was supposedly the root of all evil and that’s what he’d had drilled into him since before he could speak. No wonder he had complex feelings toward the matter.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Arthur.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He snaps out of his daze. “Yes, sire”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You will ride out to meet them, we must make sure they gain no more territory.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, Father, we shall leave tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You will leave at dawn. Alert your men.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“N-now?” Arthur says, slightly startled, but before anyone else realises that he questioned the king he corrects himself with “Of course, right away, Father.” And stands up to leave.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur may not be in a brilliant state today but he’s certainly better than he was. He managed to get some sleep in the night and he hasn’t cried. At least not today. He ate breakfast in the morning and he’ll have a distraction away from Merlin for a bit. Although, how he’ll be able to lead a military campaign without his friend at his side he’s not yet sure.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin wakes up to a knock on his door, in his exhaustion he answers with a vague sound of assent. Gwen walks in, a troubled look on her face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Merlin, what’s happened? You’re not yourself, you haven’t left your room as far as I can tell and that certainly isn’t like you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m... feeling a bit under the weather, sorry.” He wishes he could tell her, he really does, but to explain his magic to another person so soon would be far too much for him. It’s not that he thinks Gwen would be angry or upset, she is calm and measured and a kind person if ever there was one, but to have to answer her questions and get the words out, it’s just not the right time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not just that is it?” He doesn’t answer. “Merlin? You can tell me. You can trust me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course he can trust her, he knows he can trust her. Gwen was his first friend in Camelot, she’s always been kind and thoughtful to him and their friendship is one of Merlin’s most treasured relationships. Of course he can trust her. Except, it’s not just that, it’s not just trust, it’s the stress it would cause her, the issues that would arise, and whether he’s ready. He wasn’t even ready to tell <em>Arthur</em>. Soon though, he’ll tell her soon.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, I can see something has happened and I can understand if it’s difficult to talk about but I’m here for you, Merlin, and if you want to talk I’m happy to.” She rests her hand on his shoulder then leaves with a sad smile back to him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We will leave </span>
  <span class="s1">at dawn” Arthur finishes his speech to the knights.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Only us five?” Gwaine asks, looking around the Knights of the Round Table.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” the Crown Prince replies, “that should be enough.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought you said there was sorcery involved?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My father thinks so but, as you know, he will often jump to conclusions about sorcery, as far as I am aware it is a few bandits who have got a bit arrogant and decided to try and attack a village.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How many people were killed in the attack?” Elyan says.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“According to Leofwyn, the man who told us about all this, only one, I’m sure we’ll be ok. This certainly isn’t the worst threat we’ve faced.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The knights nod. They all begin to walk away. Gwaine pauses.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Will Merlin be coming?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur stops. “No... no, he’s got, he has to run some... errands for Gaius, so no he can’t come.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gwaine looks at Arthur, not entirely believing him, then turns and walks up the steps into the castle.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin sits up slowly and moves to the side of his bed. He hurts all over and his eyes still sting from tears. He should drink some water. He shuffles toward the edge of the bed and readies himself to stand. Gwaine bursts in.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Merlin!” He face shifts upon seeing the state his friend is in. “Merlin. You alright, mate?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about me. What did you want?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just came to tell you, there’s been an attack in the Northern Territory, Uther suspects magic, of course,” He smirks at Merlin, “He’s sending Arthur to sort it out, we’re leaving tomorrow.” He sits down next to Merlin on the bed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ok... why are you telling me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because, well, because, whatever it is that’s going on between you and Arthur, whatever it is that’s made you suddenly act like you detest each other rather than be the bestest friends” He puts on a childish voice for those last two words “shouldn’t destroy your lives, you both look shit, sorry, </span>
  <span class="s1">and you should probably sort it out. Anyway, that’s <em>not</em> what I came to say, I came to tell you we’re leaving at dawn tomorrow and we’re going to be heading in a north westerly direction then following the ridge line until we see them so you know where we are. Just in case everything goes balls up as it so often does.” He looks at Merlin with a soft smile.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks for the forewarning.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No problem, mate, anytime.” Gwaine says, purposefully ignoring Merlin’s blatant sarcasm, as he ruffles Merlin’s hair and skips out, turning back to give a thumbs up, far too jovial for Merlin’s liking.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So Arthur’s leaving, on a mission, with the knights, for who knows how long and it could be dangerous. Something doesn’t sit right with Merlin about it. The number of knights he’s taking, perhaps, five men is so few. The fact that it was so immediate, Uther never normally seems to care so much about borderland villages. Maybe he’s just paranoid.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur climbs into bed, aware that in the morning he’ll be leaving for the first trip in years where Merlin will not be there and, frankly, it frightens him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed it, I should be updating again soon, hopefully the next chapter is better.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur wakes up and dresses himself, as he walks down the stairs to the courtyard, he turns to his right, on instinct to speak to Merlin who is, of course, not there. Idiot. He rubs his eyes as he mounts his horse, then, off they go, through the gates of Camelot and into the forest before the majority of the kingdom have even woken up.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">   One person who has is Merlin, who woke up just before dawn and watched out of the window to see Arthur, Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, and Percival leave the courtyard. He feels slightly distant watching them leave, something feels not quite right as he sees his closest friends walk away. He is tended slightly at the thought of them without the protection of his magic.</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He rubs his eyes then walks out of his room, out of Gaius’ quarters, and into the corridor. The flagstones under his bare feet are cool and wake him up. He reaches back through the door for his boots, puts them on, then walks out into the courtyard, and down into the lower town. Only the baker is awake at this time, so he goes in. </span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Merlin!” The baker’s son says, flour on his face. “What would you like?”</p><p class="p2">   He pauses. He’s not entirely sure what he wants. Maybe just some company, some company that doesn’t care, that doesn’t want to ask him about his feelings, that’ll talk to him about light things, not the darkness that seems to have consumed him. Fuck. He’s such a melodramatic wanker.</p><p class="p2">   “You all right?”</p><p class="p2">    “I’m fine... I just— I’m going to go. Bye.” Idiot.</p><p class="p2">“Oh, OK, bye.”</p><p class="p2">   Merlin walks out the bakery with the genuine intention of going back to the castle, except, was that someone, just behind that wall? As he walked out the bakery, there was definitely a dark figure that quickly slipped into a hiding place before he could make them out entirely. Merlin follows. The figure begins to run. So does Merlin.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Something feels off about this journey, something’s odd and abnormal and Arthur really does not like it. He feels vulnerable and unshielded and, really, he knows that it’s because Merlin’s not there. His best friend who also happened to have saved Arthur a million times, even though he wasn’t aware of them at the time, just the presence of the joking, cheeky, sweet, earnest, funny boy made Arthur feel more comfortable.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   It was absolutely Arthur’s fault that Merlin wasn’t  there and he knew that, he knew he was being unfair and, frankly, a bit cruel to someone who had never done anything to hurt him, in fact, who had continuously done the opposite. He knew that. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed. Perhaps more by his father than anyone else, but it was much easier to say stop talking to your friend for a few days than your father, especially when he happens to be the king. Arthur needed to sort things out in his mind, he needed to work out exactly what magic meant and he needed to do that alone, which meant no Merlin.</p><p class="p2">   He knew one thing: magic was not something that meant someone should die. He knew that and he’d known that for quite a while. He didn’t even think magic should have any punishment so long as it wasn’t used to hurt anyone and Merlin would never hurt Arthur, that was certainly something the prince was sure of. He just couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed by the fact that Merlin hadn’t told him, something completely fair since his life <em>was</em> at risk. Arthur just needed to think, he needed to pause. He needed to sort out everything that was going in his brain because Merlin wasn’t what he thought and Merlin was a big part of his life.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The figure kept running and running, darting behind corners and through tunnels and Merlin was getting really quite out of breath. So, he scanned his surroundings and, upon seeing they were empty, cast a spell that caused whoever this person he was chasing to fall. He walked up to what he now saw was a young man in a dark hood, lifted him up by the shoulder and recognised his face. This was the man who had told the king about the attack in the West.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Why did you run from me?” Merlin asks, but before there’s an answer he spots a letter in the man’s had, and a small tattoo on his wrist. “What’s this?” He asks, taking the parchment, anger and fear rising within him.</p><p class="p2">   Merlin opens the folded letter, upon it, is a message written in a script Merlin recognises but does not understand. “Follow me. We’re going to Gaius.” He takes the man by the shoulder, magic at the ready in case he tries to escape. Fortunately he does not.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">   “Sire, I believe we should go more westerly if we wish to reach the ridge line by nightfall.” Percival announces.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur nods, their direction changes slightly. The sky is beginning to turn amber as the sun starts to set, the group is tiring as the hours go on. The journey is not entirely solemn, jokes have been made and typical shenanigans have taken place, Arthur has smiled and laughed among his knights, his mind has been taken away from the magic, which really should not be consuming him as much as it is. It is just that everything is that bit more subdued.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Take him to the dungeons, his execution will be in the morning. Thank you, Gaius, for alerting me of this betrayal.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">   After Gaius had translated the message and they had realised that the man had lied and was in league with the Saxons no less, and that his tattoo linked him to a Druid who practiced dark magic, Merlin had brought him before Uther and revealed all he knew. The Druid has made no attempt to repent or hide his guilt.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “It was not I sire, the credit deserves to go to Merlin.”</p><p class="p2">   “Then I thank you,” He turns to the manservant, “I’m sure some form of financial reward can be agreed.”</p><p class="p2">   “I will not need that thank you, sire,” Merlin speaks up, much to his own, and the King’s, surprise, “I just ask that a messenger can be sent to call off the mission which we now know is a trap.”</p><p class="p2">   Uther nods. “I understand your sentiment, and it is admirable, but as a servant, you have no knowledge of leadership, I will not follow the advice you give me, Arthur and his knights are more than able to overcome a threat.”</p><p class="p2">   “But sire, it’s a trap and they might have magic. You can’t just leave your son to die.”</p><p class="p2">   “I will not allow such impertinence, this threat is not unlike many others we have already faced, you are lucky I’m not locking you in the dungeons for questioning the king. Leave the court at once.”</p><p class="p2">   Merlin turns on his heel and walks, at a speed  closer to running, out of the room. Once out the doors, he sprints back to his chambers. Fury boiling within him.</p><p class="p2">   “He’s leaving Arthur to die,” He yells, immediately, once Gaius comes through the doors after him, “He’s just leaving them to ride headfirst into a trap without so much as a warning and he thinks they’ll just come out the other side unscathed. He’s... god, he’s... it shouldn’t be allowed.”</p><p class="p2">   “Perhaps not, yet, there is not much that can be done when the king makes a decision and he has, for all of Arthur’s life, believed that any failure on his son’s part was a reason for punishment, this is is merely an extension of that, however unjust and cruel it may be.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">   Merlin pauses, his jaw clenched and body shaking. “I’m going after them.” He announces. “I’m going to ride out and tell them. If I go now and go quickly, I should reach them in time.” He pulls on his small, brown jacket and turns to go.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Merlin, my boy, promise me you will return safely.”</p><p class="p2">   “Of course, Gaius, I’d never leave you.” He smiles lightheartedly and hugs him. They both know the likelihood of Merlin coming back to Camelot unscathed are slim.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Drama!!! There’s been a big gap between updates because I was reluctant to come back to this, I think narrative isn’t really my strong suit. I have, as a result of advice, added dashes between points of view, I hope that makes it clearer. What did you think?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin’s hands grip the horses neck as they ride, faster than the wind, through the fields outside the city gates. His heart pounds in his head and fingers and he sweats despite the chill of the wind. He has to make it. He has to get there. The alternative can’t even be considered</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur and the knights wake up and ready themselves for the day ahead. The prince looks upon his friends and knows that there’s something in their eyes very similar to what he’s feeling. Something feels quite final about this morning. Somehow it feels like the last day before the future. </span>
</p><p class="p2">   The air is cool and rain falls in the way that makes it feel like it’s floating, suspended  in the air, rather than actually falling. The small droplets gradually soak through the knights clothes as they travel through the forest.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin’s breath is sharp and quick in the cold air, all his muscles are tense. He refuses to think of what could happen if he... if he was late. He was going to get there. He was. Judging by Arthur’s normal schedule, they’d probably have only just left, and they tended to travel slowly in the mornings, so he should have time to get there. Nevertheless, his knees were pressed in on the horse’s abdomen, willing it to go as fast as it could.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘This could be the end’ Arthur thinks. This could be it, it could be over. This mission was no more dangerous than his last, or the one before, as far as he knew, not in its essence, but every time he left the city, every time he fought anyone, in fact, every time he did anything, he faced the risk of being killed, and, now, without Merlin that risk felt all the greater. Merlin, of course, provided much needed emotional support, a distraction, a friend. But the extent to which he protected Arthur, a fact which had only recently been discovered by the latter, meant that without Merlin, Arthur really did face a much greater threat than normal. Everything felt like a threat. This was his fault. He was such an idiot.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has to get there. He has no choice. That can’t have been the last time he saw Arthur. They can’t end it like that. They can’t not say goodbye. And the prophecy, the prophecy around which Merlin builds his life nowadays, it must come true, Arthur wasn’t king yet, he couldn’t die. The Golden Age needed to come. The prophecy willed Merlin on, both through the forest and in his mind: if the Golden Age had to come then Arthur would, some day, accept Merlin for who he was.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   The weather worsened and the rain beat down on Merlin’s face, making it difficult to see ahead of him. Yet, he continued, knowing the way to the ridge on instinct.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This weather’s shit, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Very eloquently put, Gwaine.”</p><p class="p2">   “Piss off, Perce.”</p><p class="p2">  The knights are practically drenched from the constant onslaught of rain, and visibility is very low, thus they now rely on Percival’s natural sense of direction and hope it takes them the right way.</p><p class="p2">   “I believe we should drop down here, sire. If the location we were told is correct, we’ll reach the village by the early afternoon.”</p><p class="p2">   There is a loud rustling in the trees.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Come on, come on, faster, he has to get there he has to.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What was that?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “I’m not sure, my Lord.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Through the rain, through the wind. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It definitely sounded like a person.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Hello?”</p><p class="p2">   “Show your face.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He chants incantations as he rides, pushing branches and trees out of his path. Something tells him he’s running out of time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We are knights of Camelot. We mean no harm.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Please, reveal yourself.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He needs to get there. He’s running out of time. He <em>needs</em> to get there.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Show</em> yourself! I command you!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">
    
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Arthur!” He yells, his voice hoarse from breathlessness. He must be close. They must be near.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A body, clad in dark armour, leaves the trees, a sword in hand.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Arthur! Gwaine! Leon! Elyan! Percival! <em>Arthur</em>!” He’s desperate and struggling. He <em>knows</em> he’s nearly out of time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur’s eyes widen in panic as more and more warriors, armed and battle-ready emerge from the trees. <br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">   These are no mere bandits. <br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">   This was a trap.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin stops his horse and practically falls off, immediately running and shouting and calling out. They are near. He can feel it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In an instant, the battle begins. Metal against metal and yells and clashing swords and, maybe he was right. Maybe this is the end.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Arthur!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hears the voice, the familiar voice, somehow here, in the forest. It can’t be. His sword impales the man he was battling. He must have made it up. But, then, again:</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Arthur!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s <em>him</em>. It’s definitely him. There’s panic in his voice but it’s undoubtedly him. <em>He’s here</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Merlin!” He calls back.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There. To his right. Merlin turns and sprints toward the call. Maybe he’s not too late but then...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur is surrounded. They are skilled and they outnumber him and his knights by an unquantifiable amount. He fights desperately. Clinging on to the future using his sword. Warrior after warrior dies at his hand and yet they keep coming, seemingly endless.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin stands on the edge of a small valley as Arthur and the knights fights against a force of warriors, their faces hidden by dark helmets. This is so much worse than he thought. This is... this is hopeless. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">   “Arthur,” He shouts from above them, fear filling his voice, “It was a trap!”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “I can see that, mate.”</p><p class="p2">   (And this <em>really</em> isn’t the time but also Arthur called him mate, does that mean things are alright?)</p><p class="p2">   He nods, realising what he must do. He pushes his shoulders back and, looking down upon the battle below, stretches out his hands and calls out, in a bellowing voice, words of a language lost long ago.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The warriors seems to fly backward, away from the knights, to the ground, as if pushed by some gust of wind that only targeted them. Arthur turned to Merlin, and sees him, his eyes filled with tears and glowing, his arms outstretched and <em>realises</em>. Realises what just happened. Realises what Merlin did, what he can do, how powerful he is, how powerful he looks standing there and...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin breathes heavily, his power drained, he takes in the enormity of what he just did. He looks to Arthur and, after a brief moment of what seemed to be a mixture of awe and relief, his eyes look panicked.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Merlin</em>! Behind you!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns and just in time for the blade moves forward as he does so. It slices the side of his arm, but would have cut through his chest.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur begins to run toward his friend. But too late.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The fist moves toward his face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Merlin!” It’s hopeless.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Earth against his side.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   <strong>Black</strong>.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Merlin!” He calls out again, desperate, and still running. But then a wall of fire appears in front of him, blocking Merlin from view. He begins to run parallel to it. The fire erupts stronger and larger behind him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “MERLIN!” It doesn’t matter where the other knights are. He just runs.</p><p class="p2">   There. There he is. He’s been thrown into the back of a wooden cart, pulled by a horse, filled by the soldiers.</p><p class="p2">   “<em>Merlin</em>!”</p><p class="p2">   BANG. A backwards force pushes him into a tree and... <strong>Black</strong>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That all got quite dramatic. I wasn’t exactly sure how to write this one well and it came out quite bitty and clunky, I don’t know. What did you think?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur wakes up, his head throbbing, he doesn’t know how long it’s been. The one thing he does know is that he needs to find Merlin. He pushes himself up off the ground, using his sword, blinking hard when his vision goes blurry, then begins to walk. There is a cart track in the mud which he follows. Alongside it is a strip of burnt earth, the embers still glow and a few small flames continue to dance in the twilight gloom. It must be the same day.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin <em>will</em> be alright. He tells himself over and over again, willing it to be true. Willing it to be reality. Merlin will be fine. Arthur will find himand they’ll go back to Camelot and it will all be okay. They’ll work through the magic stuff. <em>It will be fine.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The day continues and grows darker, the sunset painting the leaves around Arthur an amber hue. He continues through into the dark. It is only when he can struggles to see his hand in front of him and certainly can’t see where he is putting his feet, that he finally stops and admits that he should probably rest. He finds a small gap in a rock to lie under, holding his sword next to him as he falls into a restless sleep.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The cold rock against his head is the first sensation that Merlin registers. Then the darkness of the room he is in. Then the strange heaviness of the air. Then the pain. The pain in his arm, his head, his side, everywhere. His entire body aches and stings and throbs. Shit. </span>
</p><p class="p2">   Where is he? It’s certainly not his chambers. There’s a certain unfamiliar smell in the air, not entirely unlike the dungeons of Camelot, though there’s something else too, something bitter. And something feels odd, somehow restrictive and heavy. He touches the side of his head, it’s wet and hurts more on contact. Everything comes flooding back.</p><p class="p2">   He remembers using his magic, Arthur’s face, the sword cutting his arm, the fist to his head, Arthur calling his name, falling to the ground, the coolness of the wet earth then... nothing.</p><p class="p2">   He can’t see anything, the room is dark, impossibly dark, he must be inside somewhere, but where? Wherever he is, it can’t be good. Whoever it was who set the trap, who the knights fought, who tried to kill him then knocked him out, they must have taken him somewhere. At least they didn’t get Arthur, he thinks, as far as he knows.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bright light of sunset filters through Arthur’s eyelids, waking him. He jerks up grabbing his sword, aware that he has something he needs to do. He just cannot remember what. Merlin. Merlin. He needs to find Merlin. Immediately, he breaks out into running, his legs propelling him forward, following the cart tracks. Who knows how long he was asleep, how long he has to get to Merlin, before they do the unspeakable.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He runs faster than he has done for a long time for much longer than he has done, perhaps in his life and, yet, he does not stop, he can not stop. Fuelled on by adrenaline, fear and dread he continues.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door into the room opens, letting in a sliver of light. A figure appears, he’s tall, but thin, with short hair cut up close to the scalp. Behind him a burly man stands at the door, holding a torch that illuminates the room. The first leans on the wall.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So this is the famous Merlin,” He sneers, “You know, I thought you’d look a little more impressive.” He steps in and crouches in front of Merlin, then uses the tip of a knife to tilt up his prisoner’s head.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin blinks at him, helpless and hopeless. He can hardly hold his head up, the blood he’s lost has made him weak and he doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s eaten or drunk anything. The man’s face is bony, gaunt almost, with dark stubble all around. His eyes are grey and there’s something definitively evil about them, Merlin is sure of it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“God, you really are a wimp. Nevertheless, you’re useful to us. We saw that magic you performed,” He turns to face Merlin, a somehow appreciative expression on his face “Not too bad. Arthur definitely needs you doesn’t he?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Maybe you should let <em>him</em> know that.”</p><p class="p2">   “Aww,” He pouts, “Sad you don’t get any credit? Anyway, Arthur needs you, and without you, he’ll be an easy target. Just what we want.” The man’s voice becomes what Merlin can only describe as pure malevolence for the last phrase. “And... what’s even <em>better</em>, you and him, you’re friends— buddies aren’t ya? Much more than the normal prince and servant?” He is jovial and taunting. “So, your knight in shining armour is going to come running and <em>rescue</em> you. How brilliant is that?”</p><p class="p2">   “You’ll think that until you meet him. I may have saved his life a few times but Arthur is still the best soldier in all the kingdoms.”</p><p class="p2">   “Is he now? Well, we’ll see, won’t we? When he comes rushing in to save his poor little manservant.” He hasn’t stopped moving the entire time he’s been in the room, pacing back and forth from wall to wall, now, though, he stops and turns to face Merlin, “You know, you and Arthur’s little friendship is infamous? Ask anyone who knows him about the future king of Camelot and they’ll mention you, with your skinny face and useless arms, the <em>worst</em> servant in the world, they all say, and yet... he refuses to replace you. He’s been offered hundreds of replacements and every single time he asks to keep you... Something is definitely wrong in that head of his, but, well, I’ve known <em>that</em> for years.” He pauses then continues pacing. “Anyway, onto more important matters. This room, as you may have already found out blocks all magic so any attempt to use that to get out would be futile.” (Ah, Merlin thinks, that’s the heaviness of the air) “Now you’re awake there’s also the risk of you trying to leg it— that door will always be locked by the way—“ he gestures behind him and the large figure in the doorway tilts his head, “And though you may be very weak, at least physically and quite probably mentally too, judging from this conversation, I’d rather not take any chances so, come on Waltheof,” He looks behind him, “Lock him up.”</p><p class="p2">   The figure, apparently called Waltheof (it appears they are Saxons then)moves forward and places the torch into a metal hold for it. Before walking directly toward Merlin, he skirts around the wall until he seems to find the objects he is looking for: chains, tethered to the wall.</p><p class="p2">   “Don’t be afraid of being a bit rough with him.” His back is to Merlin, one hand on his hip, the other supporting him as he leans on the wall.</p><p class="p2">   “Yes, sir.” Waltheof’s voice is no more than a growl, befitting his monstrous build.</p><p class="p2">   He certainly isn’t afraid to hurt Merlin, he kicks the boy as he reaches down then the force with which he pulls Merlin’s arms forward is certainly far more than necessary. His large, rough hand easily reaches round both of Merlin’s wrists as he holds them to put the cuffs around them. Then again with the ankles. And another kick to the chest for good measure.</p><p class="p2">   Once Merlin regains his breath, he looks up at his captors and speaks quietly “Why are you doing this?”</p><p class="p2">   “Well, if you <em>must</em> know,” the apparent leader starts, “actually why should you know?”</p><p class="p2">   “What does it matter? It’s not like I’m in any position to do anything with the information.”</p><p class="p2">   He makes a gesture with his eyebrows equivalent to ‘fair enough’. “We don’t really like your little royal friend.”</p><p class="p2">   “Why? And- if he’s the one you have a problem with, why did you kidnap me?”</p><p class="p2">   “I’ll come back to your first question, but why you? Well, it’s very hard to kidnap a prince, especially when he’s surrounded by his all his little knights, whereas you, you were <em>easy</em>, standing there all alone, no one to protect you, and very quick to knock out. One punch! Then once we had you, we knew Arthur would come running after you and then we could kill him, easy as that, and we can kill you too if we like. Two birds with one stone.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do you want to kill Arthur?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For the same reason as the hundreds of others you’ve seen and will see.” It’s entirely matter of fact. “His family has wronged me and I’d quite like revenge. Also with Arthur gone Camelot’s free for the taking, we all know Uther would be weak in grief, weak man already really, and I’ve already got an army so I have an advantage over the vast majority of people, I quite like my odds don’t you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “What did Uther do to you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, fine, the king never did anything to me, but it adds to the drama, doesn’t it? Makes you feel more sympathetic. I just don’t like him. He’s a bit of a wanker and no one likes the king, stick it to the man and all that, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">    “You’re <em>insane</em>.” His voice is hardly louder than a simple exhale, but in the silence of the cell it is entirely audible.</p><p class="p2">   “I’m what sorry? <em>Insane</em>? Oh, I’ll show you insane.” He whispers into Merlin’s ear before walking away. “Knock him out. But, kick him about a bit first, might as well, we’ll be messing him up enough tomorrow. No harm starting the bruising now.”</p><p class="p2">   He leaves and Waltheof turns to him, a threatening grin spread across his cheeks.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What did you think? There was a lot more of Merlin’s perspective in this one and there probably will be in the next one too.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur <em>thinks</em> it’s been two days, at least he’s pretty sure that there have been two times the sky has gone dark. He has only stopped when he really needed to. Food has been scarce, however, he managed to kill and cook a rabbit the day before which did help. Maybe Merlin won’t complain about hunting so much when he finds out that Arthur’s ability to do it meant he was able to rescue Merlin. That is, if he does manage to rescue Merlin, if he gets there on time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s no knowing what those men wanted with Merlin and why they took him. Perhaps they discovered his magic and... wanted it for themselves? Was that a thing? Could you take someone’s magic and give it to yourself? Maybe they wanted Arthur to be vulnerable, which he absolutely would be without Merlin. Maybe they wanted exactly what was going to happen. Perhaps their plan all along was to get Arthur to come and save Merlin and when he arrived they’d kill him. That was quite likely really. People often tries to kill him, they had for years. Nevertheless, it was more important to at least try to save Merlin and perhaps risk his life on the way. He couldn’t just leave him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They don’t stop, they seem to arrive within five minutes of Merlin waking up every time. The man, who is apparently called Dunric, will talk to him and Waltheof, or occasionally one of the other cronies, will be left to do what they like with Merlin. “What they like” always seems to include a lot of kicking, quite a bit of punching and occasionally some spitting for good measure. There is no part of Merlin’s body that does not hurt. The only thing he is relying on is that Arthur won’t leave him, he thinks, he hopes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thin man, who appears to be in charge, is always there, always gloating and taunting and snarling and, frankly, he’s frightening. Something about his eyes, or perhaps his voice strikes pure fear in Merlin. On this day, the third day, not that Merlin knows how long it’s been, he walks in with three large Saxons behind him. </span>
</p><p class="p2">   “So, Merlin, how are you?” He sits down on the floor in front of Merlin, who shrinks back into himself and presses his back to the wall. “Don’t want to talk to me? We’ll see about that, hmm? Come on, boys-“</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>No</em>. I’ll talk, I’ll talk.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, answer my question. How are you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you <em>think</em> I am? I’ve been locked in here for, for, for I don’t know how long. It’s dark the whole time and I haven’t had any water or any food and I’m being beaten up day and night by these, these men.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have we not been good hosts? Oh, I am so sorry Merlin, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He turns to one of the warriors behind him. “Go get him something to drink.” Back to Merlin. “Now, what do you say?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you.” It’s hardly more than a whisper. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t hear you...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you. I said thank you.” He repeats through gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look, I know you’re angry about all this but if you do speak back to me, know that I won’t hesitate in crushing you more than I already am. Okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now, tell me about Arthur.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This is new. He’s never been asked to talk before, never been asked to answer questions. Maybe they know something he doesn’t. But what does that matter, he’ll be stuck here anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s, er, he’s crown prince of Camelot, his father is Uther Pendragon, he is the leader of the Knights of the Round Table-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I <em>know</em> all that, tell me things that will help me to <em>kill</em> him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin freezes. The malice that the last sentence exuded stopped his thoughts, almost stopped the flow of his blood. Tears rise to his eyes. He won’t let them fall. But the concept, the mere concept, that this man before him wishes to, and would be quite capable of, killing Arthur scares and pains him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Go on... tell me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Er... I’m not sure, I don’t pay much attention to the way he fights.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Don’t</em> lie to me Merlin, it won’t end well.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m telling the truth.” But of course, he isn’t. Merlin knows the exact face Arthur pulls before he swings his sword. The fact that he normally fights with his right hand despite being stronger on his left because he wants to be able to fight well </span>
  <span class="s1">bilaterally. The way he sidesteps with his feet to avoid the impact from an enemy’s weapon. The little twitch his shoulders give before he lunges forward. Merlin knows everything.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Very well then. I guess I’ll have to come back tomorrow. Do your worst boys.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">   Arthur lights a small fire and eats the last of the rabbit. He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be travelling for but if it’s even a few more days he’ll be too weak to help Merlin at all, let alone fight all the warriors that are probably there with him. He needs to rest. He has to rest. But he needs to get to Merlin.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Merlin awakes there is a small tankard of mead in front of him. He reaches out to take it and brings it to his lips. Then pauses. Why would he trust it? They could very easily have poisoned it and be planning on killing him. Then again, they could have very easily killed him long ago. He drinks. It’s not great but it’s better than nothing and it doesn’t taste poisoned. And, that tankard could be very useful...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The tracks seem to disappear. There’s a large muddy patch in the earth, far too liquid to hold tracks for this long. There’s no way of knowing which way they went. There’s no way of working it out. Arthur begins to panic. First, tears start to flow, fast, rolling down his cheeks. He wipes them away. He refuses to cry. The fear in him grows.  What if he doesn’t get to Merlin? His breath rises and falls quickly, so much so that it’s hardly entering his lungs, but he can’t slow it down. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. There’s nothing he can do. He can’t breathe. He’s going to die and then Merlin will die too. Merlin... <em>Merlin</em>. Merlin with his smile and laughter and blue eyes and carelessness and jokes and banter and his love for everything and his optimism. <em>Merlin</em>. Arthur closes his eyes and remembers. Remembers Merlin grinning at his own jokes as he opens the curtains in the morning. Merlin promising to always stand by Arthur’s side. Merlin telling Arthur he’s a good person through it all. <em>Merlin</em>. His breathing calms and he relaxes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After taking a few seconds to gather himself, holding onto the nearby branch of a tree, Arthur assesses the situation. The bog goes down into a ditch very steeply on the left, if the cart were to go down there it would certainly have crashed. He eliminates that option. Ahead, the mud seems to deepen, far too much for a horse to walk through. That one is out. Right, that means it has to be the left, it’s the left, it must be, Arthur decides, and walks that way, stepping on tree roots to avoid stepping too deeply in mud. The panic hasn’t disappeared entirely but it has dulled slightly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin holds the metal tankard in his hands and moves it back and forth over the chain that attaches his wrists and ankles to wall, gradually sawing through the large metal link.He has hope.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   The door begins to open. He curls up around himself in the corner and tucks the tankard between his knees. He closes his eyes and pretends to sleep. The door closes again. He exhales and, after waiting a moment to make sure that they have gone, begins to work at the chain again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur leaves the bog behind him and, back on solid land, the track begins again. He was <em>right</em>. He can get to Merlin. He can get there. It won’t be far now.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope this one wasn’t too much like the last one, I feel like it might have been... What did you think?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The link of the chain breaks and Merlin leans back against the wall, the skin of his hands raw on top of the rest of the pain he is in. The emptiness of his stomach growls at him. There’s nothing he can do about that. Now he’s cut the chain he needs to decide the next step. The door is always locked, he was told that at the start and he certainly couldn’t just run out of them even if they weren’t, he would certainly be killed. This building, or whatever it is, definitely holds at least 15 trained and armed warriors and those are only the ones he’s seen. Also, he has no idea how to get out of this place, he wouldn’t know what direction to go in. Cutting the chains was really just the first step of a long process.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He can’t necessarily rely on Arthur getting to him. Though he knows Arthur will have followed, there’s no doubt about that, even after the magic Merlin knows Arthur would rescue him, that is one fact he is sure of, but there’s no saying whether he could follow the cart, whether he was stopped from doing so, or it was just plain impossible. It’s quite possible he doesn’t find Merlin which means that Merlin will have to plan an escape.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dunric enters again and attempts another interrogation, to no avail. If there’s one thing Merlin prides himself on (that he is able to admit without risking execution), it’s definitely his ability to lie, however much Arthur seems to think he is incapable of it. He has also managed to keep hold of the tankard, a sort of make shift weapon if it comes to it, he’s decided.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It really can’t be far now, Arthur thinks, he’s been walking for a long time and he’s tired and hungry. Luckily for him, there’s been no rain since the battle and all the tracks have remained visible in the mud, but there are storm clouds above this morning and they look fit to burst. He’ll need to get there soon.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   The exact plan from when he finds wherever it is he’s going hasn’t been decided, he has no idea what it will be like, it could be anything from a wooden shack to a palace. There good be thousands of armed guards or four. He doesn’t know. Which means he has to be ready for anything, fortunately for Arthur, he’s practically been battle ready since he could walk. Then... </p><p class="p2">   There it is! That must be it. It’s the exact same small wooden cart outside and the exact same horses tethered to the wall. This is it. It’s a stone building- almost a tower but not quite tall enough, there are no windows and one door. Arthur pauses and panics slightly, he can’t just walk in there. He ducks behind a tree, just as two armoured men walk out.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin has decided on a plan. When he next gets interrogated, he’ll wait until Dunric has gone, then, whichever of the bear-like men it is in there will begin to torment him. Except, Merlin plans, he won’t get the chance. Using the tankard as a sort of club, the warlock will knock out the soldier, or at least surprise him, then he’ll run. The door isn’t locked when there’s someone in there with him and once he’s out the room he’ll have his magic back. After that, who knows? He nods to himself and prepares his mind for what’s to come. Whatever that is.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There seem to be guards outside the building most of the time, Arthur notices and realises that his best bet is to incapacitate them quickly, so they don’t have time to alert anyone, then go in. They have their swords but they’re on their belts so if he is quick enough, they may not have time to unsheathe them. Three just went in so he’ll wait until the next few come out.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The floor outside the door creaks slightly as it so often does before Merlin receives a visit. Exactly as he expected, the door opens and in walks Dunric and Waltheof. He’s lucky, only one today and how coincidental that it’s the same one as his first day. He looks up at them teeth clenched in anger, knuckles white in their grip on the tankard too, all the way through Dunric talking. He takes no notice of the words that come out of his cruel mouth, only thinking of what he is about to do, fear and excitement rushing through his blood vessels.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door starts to open and Arthur grips the hilt of his sword, slowly and quietly removing it from the scabbard. He hides behind the tree, heart beating so loud he’s surprised his position isn’t given away, he steps out from behind his tree to another, inching towards them.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   He moves forward, no longer protected by the cover of trees, relying solely on the fact that the two men are facing the other way and his trained feet step soundlessly on the earth. He brings the sword into the air and strikes the first with the hilt, knocking him to the ground. The second one turns and brings his sword out, beginning to shout. Arthur wraps his arm around the man’s throat and covers his mouth “If you don’t talk I’ll let you live.” The man nods. He knocks him out and walks into the building.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin is twitchy and on edge, he’s sure that this is lasting longer than usual. Normally he’d be being beaten up at this point. He’s certain of it. Then...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur meets his first enemy inside almost immediately. He stabs him before he can think. The armour on the body clatters as it hits the floor. This isn’t exactly going to be inconspicuous. He meets two more warriors and kills them too. Then knocks out another.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin can hear something, something loud. Crashes and bangs and small yells. So, apparently, can the two men in front of him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Go and sort whatever this is out.”</p><p class="p2">   “Yes, sir”</p><p class="p2">   This isn’t exactly what was supposed to happen but Merlin will have to improvise. Dunric leans forward, his stale breath filling Merlin’s nostrils.</p><p class="p2">   “If you or that royal friend of yours have anything to do with th-“</p><p class="p2">  He doesn’t finish. Merlin has hit him on the side of the head, hard. He has knocked him out. He has done it. Before he has time to think, though, he has to run. He leaves the room and immediately feels a weight off his shoulders, feeling free. He uses magic to remove the metal from around his ankles so he can run. He does not have time to do the same for his wrists. As soon as he begins to move he feels the effects of his starvation and dehydration.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There are far more warriors then Arthur imagined but he continues, battling his way through the narrow corridors, knocking out or killing Saxon after Saxon, the adrenaline rushing through his blood. He moves forward, not knowing where Merlin is but hoping, with all his will, that he finds him and finds him alive.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin runs up the first staircase he sees, the impact of every step jarring in his knees. As he turns the corner, he pauses briefly, relief flooding him, it’s Arthur, it’s <em>Arthur</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur turns his head to look down a small staircase and there, Merlin, pale and wounded and weaker than he’s ever been but still, undoubtedly, Merlin.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Merlin!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Arthur!”</p><p class="p2">   It’s all going to be <em>ok</em>.</p><p class="p2">   He runs to the top of the stairs, heart pounding. Then he remembers, he needs to warn Arthur, he needs to tell him that Dunric is downstairs and knocked out but quite probably about to wake up, except, suddenly, his head feels light and the world is spinning.</p><p class="p2">   “Arthur...” He tried to force the words out but breathing is difficult, he points down the stairs, “He’s, Arthur, he’s-“ And he falls as everything goes black, the last thing he notices is two hands on either side of his abdomen.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shit. What does he do? Arthur caught Merlin by instinct and now he stands at the top of the stairs holding the limp body. Arthur checks, Merlin is still alive, he is breathing. What was Merlin pointing at? What was he trying to say? The prince looks at his friend and realises how long he left him there, and how awful the situation truly is. Asleep, Merlin looks childlike and vulnerable, his skin is pale but patterned with bruises, scabs, and still wet blood. Arthur can feel his ribs through his shirt, which too is steeped in blood. There are large metal cuffs around Merlin’s wrists, heavy and rusting slightly. If he’d been any longer Merlin may have died and if he takes any longer he may yet. That triggers Arthur’s instincts and adrenaline and he immediately lifts up Merlin, much lighter than the last time he had to do this, and places him over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In a split second, Arthur makes the decision to go to where Merlin was pointing, down the stairs. Immediately, he can smell blood, sweat and a touch of urine, close to making him fetch. He continues. At the end of the corridor there is a door, slightly ajar. He can see in. There is a man in there, slim and tall, with dark hair, standing up. He immediately exudes evil to Arthur and hatred automatically fills his mind. It seems this is the man behind everything. He draws his sword, still holding Merlin, and steps inside.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It was a while before this update, sorry, and after all that time, I feel like this one wasn’t very good. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to end it there but I thought if I went any longer it would be too long. Sorry :(. Anyway, what did you think?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Upon entering the room, Arthur slowly lowers Merlin from his shoulder on to the floor, tucking him into the corner and standing defensively in front of him, aware that the fight he is about to take part in wouldn’t be helped by a servant restricting the movement of one of his arms.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   The man inside turns, a leer plastered across his face. “Prince Arthur.” He practically hisses. “Just who I’ve been waiting for.”</p><p class="p2">   Arthur holds his sword up. “It was a mistake to attempt to challenge Camelot. It was a mistake to think that a servant was an easy target. It was a mistake to try and set a trap for me. These are mistakes for which you will pay.”</p><p class="p2">   “<em>Aww</em>, sorry to-“</p><p class="p2">   Arthur swings his sword, only to be met with his enemy’s mid-air. He swings again. So does the Saxon. Arthur steps forward. The man dodges. They continue to duel. Normally Arthur would be more than a match for a person of Dunric’s level, but after days of little food and rest, he is not himself. Moreover, he can hear footsteps approaching through the corridor.  He turns and puts his sword up just before the warrior who just entered swings an axe downwards. He’s trapped fighting two skilled warriors and he’s got to get out, he’s got escape, he’s got to rescue Merlin. But he can’t. They’re too much for him. His arm is weaker with every passing second and though he’s managed to cause a few wounds, nothing enough for either of the two men to stop. As time goes on, Arthur knows that more of the soldiers he knocked out just a few minutes prior will start wake up. He pushes his sword forward and manages to impale the larger man, leaving just one enemy. And it’s the worst one.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Arthur’s tired and weak and desperate and the man in front of him is malicious and unfazed. And he isn’t focussed or strong enough and suddenly his sword is out of his hand and on the floor and he’s defenceless and alone and there’s nothing more he can do and he needs to protect Merlin but he can’t because he’s on the other side of the room and there’s no path and now Dunric is walking toward Merlin and there’s nothing Arthur can do and he can feel his heart as it beats a thousand times a second...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, in an instant and the shift of an arm and the flash of a sword, Merlin is awake and has the sword in his hand and has impaled Dunric in the chest. He pulls the sword out and the body falls on top of him. Arthur pauses. Relief floods his veins and arteries and he can’t help but laugh, a disbelieving breathless chuckle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Merlin! You’re... You- My God, well </span>
  <span class="s2">done, </span>
  <span class="s1">Merlin!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A small, tearful, shaky voice replies, “Can you get him off me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One second it had been dark and the next he’d been awake and Dunric has been about to kill him. In that second something inside Merlin had made him act and he’d grabbed a sword he didn’t know was there and lunged it forward. The corpse had fallen onto Merlin. Now it sits there, heavy and seeping blood into his clothes, but that’s not the part that makes Merlin’s skin crawl, it’s the fact that <em>he</em> killed him- with a sword, not magic- and that this is the man that has been torturing Merlin for days and he doesn’t want to be near him, not anymore. Arthur was supposed to take him away. It disgusts and frightens Merlin but he’s too weak to do anything.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   In the loudest voice he can muster, fully aware that he sounds cowardly and infirm, he begs Arthur to move the body.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur immediately reacts and pulls the lifeless form, surprisingly heavy in death, off of Merlin. He places it down quickly and goes back to Merlin who looks up at Arthur, vulnerable and shaken, and, in a voice hardly louder than a whisper, thanks him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur is shocked by the weakness in Merlin, despite his constant teasing, in his eyes, Merlin is strong and powerful and unfazed by nearly everything. Except, here, he sits, slouching, seemingly unable to sit up properly, petrified, and broken and the emotions are so out of place on such a normally jovial face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He reaches a hand down to help Merlin up. “We need to go. I don’t know how many of these warriors are about to wake up and I’d rather not be here when they do.”After feeling the hardly there attempt of Merlin to use his outstretched hand to stand up, Arthur leans down, “Will you be able to walk?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin replies hesitantly. “I- I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” He nods, “Better safe than sorry and we need to be quick.” He lifts Merlin up and places him over his shoulders, using both his hands to steady the body. “We won’t go far today, but we do need to get a sizeable distance away. If this gets too painful, say something.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin can hardly keep his eyes open, but he’s grateful for Arthur’s strong arms holding him up. He can focus on the hands gripping his arms and legs and the shoulders in which he rests and try to ignore the pain. He can let the rhythm of Arthur’s walking lull him into sleep. He can feel the contact of the prince that means ‘I am here. I will help you’ and feel safe. He can relax, at least slightly. So he allows himself to close his eyes and succumb to the unconscious world which has been drawing him in.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The fact that Arthur can feel Merlin’s heartbeat on his back provides him was an assurance that Merlin is <em>alive</em> and he got there in time. But the panic does not subside. Arthur knows that Merlin’s wounds are dangerous and possibly fatal and he isn’t even entirely sure of their exact extent. He needs to find somewhere for the two of them to rest. Fortunately as he walks through the building, all the Saxons remain knocked out and there are none outside. He keeps going, to be sure. Passing landmarks he knows he saw on the way, wishing Merlin was awake so he’d have company, but it doesn’t matter really, because Merlin is here and alright, and that’s enough.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is quite a short one sorry, and it took a while, I’m not very good at action so I tend to be slower but hopefully the next chapters will be quicker and longer (and better). What did you think?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur has walked for three hours in what he thinks is a vaguely south easterly direction. His back and shoulders ache from the weight ofMerlin and the rest of him is tired from the constant exertion and stress he has gone through the past few days. Though Merlin is now awake, which makes Arthur feel slightly less alone, he is not in a fit state to properly talk, and certainly not to walk, so Arthur keeps a hold of him and walks in silence except for the occasional “Are you alright?” that tends to get a vague noise of assent in response. He doesn’t think he can continue much further thus, when he sees a small stream with a cave beside it, he decides to stop.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think we’re far enough now, and this” He points at the cave with his foot, “Will provide us with some shelter for the night, the stream will be useful for cleaning you up a bit too.” Arthur slowly lowers Merlin onto the earth and props his back up against the stone. He reaches under his mail and tears off a piece of fabric from his shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m going to have to mend that <em>now</em>.” Merlin groans, clearly using a lot of effort.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t worry, I think I’ll burn this shirt, there’s not really any recovering it from what it’s been through.” He pauses and looks at Merlin. “You’ll certainly never be able to wear that again.” He gestures towards Merlin’s blood stained, soiled tunic then walks over to the running water to soak the cloth.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Though certainly not in any sort of condition that could ever be described as anywhere within the realm of ‘good’, Merlin is certainly getting better. He can keep his eyes open and is able to talk -with effort. As soon as he left his prison and lost all the adrenaline that was the only thing keeping him alive in there, the pain overwhelmed him, as did the hunger, thirst, exhaustion and emotional hurt. But, now, with Arthur, he’s beginning to somehow, very slightly recover. Arthur’s presence comforts him, providing a feeling of safety.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">-</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur crouches in front of Merlin, a damp cloth in his hand, and pauses. Merlin’s face is so pale it’s near translucent, and the skin over his bones is stretched so taut it looks as if it should break. All over his face and head, small and not so small wounds show themselves with dry and still moist blood. Arthur feels his stomach drop at the pain that Merlin went through and is clearly still going through. He places his right hand on the back of Merlin’s neck, supporting his head, and with his left dabs, softly and carefully, at Merlin’s injuries. He starts just above his ear, on his hairline. Arthur suspects the scab there is the one from the hit that knocked him out just after he... Arthur pushes the thought from his mind. Now is not the time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur’s fingers one Merlin’s neck are warm and strong. Merlin focuses on them and tries to ignore the aches from the rest of his body. The look with which the prince is facing Merlin is one of something far more than pity, it appears as if he, too, feels Merlin’s pain, but it is also a look of care, seemingly of, Merlin can hardly believe, love. His blue eyes are softened and his brows upturned, he’s sticking his tongue out slightly in concentration and his forehead is crumpled. He looks only at the hand with which he cleans Merlin’s cuts. That hand, lightly dabbing at his skin, says a thousand words that Merlin knows will never be spoken aloud, words that have been unspoken for years. But to Merlin the cool dampness of the cloth and the careful placement of his hand is enough.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a few minutes, the cloth is saturated red, so Arthur carefully places Merlin’s head back against the rock, and cleans and soaks it in the stream again. He returns and places his hand back.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Can you lean forward? I need to get to the back of your head.”</p><p class="p2">   Merlin does just that and Arthur attends the wound. After two more rinses of the cloth, Arthur moves on to Merlin’s face, cleaning dust, tears, sweat and blood from Merlin’s cheeks. He moves his fingers up to near Merlin’s eyes, ready to clean the bruised skin.</p><p class="p2">   “Tell me if I hurt you.”</p><p class="p2">   “Okay.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin shuts his eyes and feels the soft pressure on his eyelids and the surrounding skin of Arthur wiping away dirt. He strokes with the cloth, tentative and meticulous. The sensation calms Merlin. This is the soft type of care that the two of them rarely show; risking lives and blocking weapons and shouting warnings and grand gestures to save lives are what they do best, but Arthur slowly cleaning Merlin’s face somehow tells the latter something which none of the other acts could. </span>
</p><p class="p2">   Arthur’s right hand shifts so it’s behind the top of Merlin’s head, and he tips it back slightly, to more easily wipe at the skin below Merlin’s jaw. His breath is close to Merlin’s ear, inhales and exhales brushing the skin, sending cool air back and forth. Merlin still does not open his eyes, wanting to, instead, feel Arthur’s presence, feel their propinquity, feel the soft light of sunset on his skin, feel the cool fabric on his aching skin, feel the fact that he is alive and safe and free.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur pauses after wiping away as much dirtand blood he could from Merlin’s neck. “I, er, I think you’ll have to take your shirt off. There are definitely injuries under there and they need to be checked and cleaned.” Arthur looks at Merlin, unsure and awkward. </span>
</p><p class="p2">  He is met with a soft nod and a “I’m not sure if I can do it myself.” With a slight wince.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, that’s- that’s fine.” Arthur places Merlin’s head against the stone delicately and puts down the cloth. “Can you lean forwards and, erm, put your arms up?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin chuckles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>What</em>?” Arthur asks, defensive.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s just that’s what I normally ask, and it’s what I’m normally doing, we’ve swapped.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I suppose we have.” Arthur smiles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin raises his arms above his head slowly, grimacing. Arthur takes the hem of Merlin’s shirt from his waist and pulls it up gently, peeling it away when it’s stuck to his skin. He lifts it above Merlin’s head, then stands up straighter from his crouch, to more easily pull it over Merlin’s vertical arms. Arthur looks down. Merlin sits, hunched, looking smaller than Arthur thinks he’s ever seen a person. His ribs and shoulder blades jutting out, clearly visible, through skin patterned with red, arms practically wasted away. But not only that, Merlin seems small emotionally, entirely vulnerable, his upturned brows clearly displaying his internal situation.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Did they feed you <em>anything</em>?” Arthur exhales and shakes his head.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They gave me a tankard of mead on one of the days...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s <em>it</em>? God, Merlin, you must have been there for, at least, six days, and you ate <em>nothing</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “There was nothing <em>to</em> eat...”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right, I’ll, I’ll catch you a fish, from the stream, it’s shallow so they shouldn’t be too hard to spot, we can cook it on a fire then eat it. I’ll just do this first.” He’s talking time himself more than Merlin, really. Suddenly, he has another realisation. “They didn’t give you any water either?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   Merlin shakes his head.</p><p class="p2">   “Why didn’t you say? It doesn’t matter, it’s not your fault, you were unconscious.” He removes the water skin from his belt and walks to the stream to fill it then hands it to Merlin, who winces as he lifts his hands to hold it. “Here, don’t worry, I’ll do it.” Arthur takes a hold of the main body of the skin and tips it upwards.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin gulps down the water and feels It roll down his dry throat. He doesn’t stop to breathe, practically inhaling the liquid. Then when it finishes, and Arthur takes away the skin, he pants to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Better?”</p><p class="p2">   “Mmhm.” Merlin says, his voice coming a little more easily.</p><p class="p2">   “I need to clean your chest now, I think.”</p><p class="p2">  Merlin nods and Arthur leans forward, much more careful than before, and checking in with Merlin every few seconds, aware that he is much closer, physically, to Merlin than ever before. The chill of the cold water both comforts and unsettles Merlin, providing some relief from his pain, but also injecting cold through his malnourished body. He shivers.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin nods. “Just a bit cold.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m nearly done.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur is very aware of his hands as he dabs at Merlin’s chest. Very aware of the boundaries he’s dangerously close to crossing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you have any injuries on your back?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “I’m... not sure, probably.”</p><p class="p2">   “Lean forward then.” Arthur places his right hand on the front of Merlin’s shoulder, helping to hold him up. He feels the chill of Merlins skin and the lack of, frankly, anything, around his bones. There the ache of sadness in his stomach goes again.</p><p class="p2">   Merlin’s back is grazed and mostly raw, but better than the rest of him, so Arthur is done quickly. He lifts Merlin’s shirt from the ground and pauses.</p><p class="p2">   “I’m, er, I’m not sure if you should wear this, Merlin. It’s soaked in blood and grime and it’ll probably do you more harm than good, I’ll wash it.” He glances at Merlin, who nods, and realises that the boy is hunched over and shivering. “But you can’t not wear a shirt, you’ll freeze to death. Er... I’ll...” He places Merlin’s shirt on the ground and lifts off his armour and mail, then the tunic he’s wearing beneath them, before handing it to Merlin. “Put this on.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Arthur, I-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Put it on.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin takes the shirt from Arthur’s hands. “Are you-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Put it on, Merlin, don’t you ever listen to orders?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I thought we’d established that by now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Put it on.” Something changes in Arthur’s face. “Unless, er, do you, are you alright to do it by yourself?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin nods, not entirely sure whether he is, but not wanting to make the shirtless Arthur in front of him too uncomfortable. He also doesn’t really know how he’d deal with a shirtless Arthur so close to him, but that’s a different matter. He clenches his teeth to hide his grimace as he lifts it over his head and onto his torso. It is warm and not just with the heat from having just left Arthur’s body, it is a comforting warm. The warmth of Arthur caring, perhaps. The worn fabric seems to almost melt into Merlin’s skin, it’s fleece-esque texture providing him with comfort as if it were a blanket. The sleeves are far longer than Merlin’s arms so he balls them at the ends to preserve more heat.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “I’ll get you a fish.” Arthur, seemingly blushing slightly, walks to the stream, holding his sword.</p><p class="p2">   Less than ten minutes later, he has one. Merlin has to admit that it is quite impressive, really.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll need to cook this, can you, you know,” He gestured vaguely and makes an indeterminate sound with his mouth, “A fire.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin catches on, but pauses. “Are you- are you sure?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes.” Arthur clenches his jaw and turns away, placing the fish on a nearby stone to scale and gut it.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   Merlin hesitantly stretches a hand forward and whispers to gather sticks into a suitable pile for a fire, he feels the warmth of magic in his eyes as they move and as he speaks another incantations which ignited them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur finds himself turning to look at Merlin as he performs his magic. He watches the shape of his lips as they form the words Arthur does not understand and the small twitches of his hand and the gold in his eyes. It is that which captivated him. Arthur has seen many perform magic, and whilst they were certainly not all evil, there is a certain softness to the way Merlin’s eyes flash, a purity to it. Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s Merlin.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Are you going to stay half naked for the whole evening?” Merlin blurts out.</p><p class="p2">   “I’m going to wash your shirt in the stream, then dry it over the fire, I’ll have you know.”</p><p class="p2">  And he does do just that. Once he attaches the fish to a stick leant on two logs on either side of the fire to cook, he takes Merlin’s soiled shirt to the stream. He places it down on a stone and pauses, catching his own reflection in the water. He is gaunt and pale and covered in grime, much worse than he’s ever seen himself, in fact, and it takes him aback slightly for a second. Then he realises what he’s supposed to do, he’s unsure of exactly <em>how</em> to do it, though. He’s never cleaned clothes before and definitely not in flowing water. He submerges it, hoping that that will do something, and it does, it’s just not particularly significant. He rubs it against the stone, then itself, then the stone again, slightly hopelessly.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin, bemused, watches as Arthur cleans. He can hear the huffs and sighs and see the expressions of confusion, frustration, and determination. Every few seconds, Arthur brings his hand up to comb it through his hair while he shakes his head, this has resulted in an unconventional hairstyle, the dampness holding it in whatever position he leaves it, strands and clumps, held together by mid, stick out at all different angles. Merlin smiles to himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur stands up and walks back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have you ever cleaned clothes before?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up, Merlin.” He places the shirt near the fire on a stone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The warmth of the fire soaks through Merlin, assuring his safety, though his muscles ache and scabs sting, he feels okay.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"><br/></span>   Arthur sits beside Merlin, and hands him some of the now cooked fish, which he eats quickly. The sun has set and the stars show themselves between the branches of the canopy. The moon is large and round and bright in the cloak of dark blue. A chill blows through the air and Arthur clenches his teeth, vehement to not show his cold. It is Merlin that matters right now.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We need to talk.” He has said the words he’s dreaded for so long.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin turns to look at him and nods, “We do.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I simultaneously feel like I like this chapter and that it’s not anywhere near as good as it could have been :/, what did you think?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mostly Arthur’s thought processes post-realising magic. I hope you enjoy it!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the the ride back to Camelot, Arthur does not speak.<br/>
“You know what’s up with him?” Gwaine asks<br/>
“Not sure. He seemed a bit... off since the bandits but it’s not like that’s something he’s never experienced before. In fact it’s a very common occurrence.” Merlin replies.<br/>
“I guess, maybe things build up and get worse. Maybe this was just one too many attacks, and he has been through a lot lately” Elyan adds.<br/>
“True”<br/>
“Well, if you don’t know, Merlin, no one will.” Gwaine says and rides ahead.<br/>
Elyan looks at Merlin, “He’ll be fine, I’m sure, don’t worry.”<br/>
“I’m not worrying. It’s Arthur, a bit of quiet is a rare treat” Merlin laughs slightly.<br/>
“Right” Elyan looks at him speculatively.<br/>
They arrive at Camelot and as Merlin removes Arthur’s mail, the latter won’t look anywhere but the ground.<br/>
“ I was telling the truth last night, Arthur,” Merlin blurts out, “there is absolutely nothing wrong with having feelings and the best thing is often to speak about them. It helps, really. Being a prince doesn’t stop you being human. You’re allowed to be like the rest of us, despite your power and responsibility and position”</p><p>“You have no idea what it means to be a prince. No idea. So don’t try and pretend you understand what. Don’t.” He pauses, still not looking at Merlin, “Take the evening off. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”</p><p>“Yes, sire”</p><p>Perhaps he shouldn’t have snapped at Merlin. Perhaps he shouldn’t be angry. But how can he trust him anymore after he’s lied the entire time they’ve known each other? And a lie that great? They were supposed to trust each other. And as much as it pained Arthur to admit having such a close relationship with a servant, they were supposed to be friends. Then Merlin went and did this. How many times had he used magic when Arthur was there? When Uther was there? All this time and he’d never even thought of telling him. He knew so many of Arthur’s secrets, so many things no one else did and yet he kept who he really was secret all that time. All those years.</p><p> Merlin was supposed to just be a boy. That was his role when he first arrived at Camelot. And then he challenged Arthur. Twice. Then he saved his life (was that with magic too?). Then he was supposed to be a servant. But that didn’t seem to be possible. Every second he was poking fun at Arthur and he never did what he was told and he was probably one of the worst servants in history at doing his job and yet Arthur needed him there. Because here was this boy who wouldn’t treat Arthur any different to anyone else, who wouldn’t meekly follow every command, who treated him like someone who was rude and arrogant and a bit of a twat. Which he was and Arthur needed that as much as he hated it. Because Merlin has most definitely made Arthur a better person and both parties knew that, though neither would ever admit the fact. Then Merlin was supposed to be his friend and Arthur was happy with that one and he thought Merlin was too. Although apparently not happy enough to tell his so called friend who he really was. But could Arthur blame him? After all his father, as king, had done. After everything that Arthur has stood by and watched. But did Merlin really think that Arthur would really kill him? Did he really think that lowly of him?</p><p>And what had Merlin used for his magic the entire time? Well, judging from the day before, and all the strange coincidences, helping Arthur. How could Arthur be angry at that? But magic goes against absolutely everything Arthur has ever been taught. His whole life, magic has always been the epitome of evil, the symbol of villainy, the worst crime anyone could ever commit. It was all his father really cared about and it was the enemy against which he had fought his entire life. Sorcery was supposed to be unforgivable. But Arthur himself not questioned that fact a few years ago when he discovered the circumstances surrounding his birth. But he was young and foolish and far too emotional. But was he right?</p><p>Arthur laid back and tried to sleep</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment! (I just realised that chapter 15, chapter 16, and chapter 17 were not posted and were just drafts, sorry about that! they have now been posted and an actually new chapter should come soon, I'm not very good at all this, sorry! there are also issues with the summaries and notes that I'm trying to fix :/ )</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin can feel his breath as it enters and leaves his body, he can feel the silence as it stretches on, he can feel Arthur’s unsure eyes on him. He knows they need to talk but he’s afraid. The silence was easier, not talking was easier, there’s still hope if they don’t talk, once they do, it’s set in stone, but Merlin can’t remain unsure forever, always wary of losing everything. “We do.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur pauses and breathes in. “I have known, for a long time, much longer perhaps than I realise, that magic itself, magic alone is not- that there is nothing inherently evil or wrong or corrupt about it. This is a fact I’ve known for years. I’d watch as my father condemned sorcerer after sorcerer to death and I’d watch as they were killed and I always felt that, that it was wrong.” He’s looking directly into Merlin’s eyes, staring through the blue, but this speech is as much for himself as his friend, he needs to collect his feelings and accept them. He needs them in the open. “I have always felt that it was unjust, for a person who has done no wrong, that merely exists in a certain way, to be persecuted- executed- for just being. I have often felt an anger within me when my father’s judgement was clouded, as it so often was, by sorcery. I am not going to condemn you to death, Merlin, I am not going to exile you, you will receive no punishment whatsoever for you have done nothing to deserve it.” He sees Merlin relax slightly. “I do not think my emotional conflict after I found out was due to the existence of your magic, though that did complicate my thoughts-you must see that my whole life I have been taught that magic is the root of all that is evil- but that was not why I was hurt. I was hurt because you did not tell me, you did not trust me.” Merlin opens his mouth to talk but Arthur does not stop. “I know why, I understand why, I know what you saw, and continue to see, and I do realise, I <em>do</em>,” He lays a hand gently on Merlin’s forearm, “I realise that you were scared and it makes complete sense, but I was still hurt, and, maybe, I had no right to be, but I was. I needed to adjust to you being a different person to the one I thought. I thought I knew you so well, Merlin, I thought I knew everything about you, as you do me, finding out that you were not that person, that in fact the secret you were hiding from me was perhaps the largest that you could, you must understand that it came as a shock.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “I am still that person, Arthur.”</p><p class="p2">   “I know, I <em>know</em>, but it took me time to realise that and I am sorry, Merlin. I truly am.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As Arthur spoke, Merlin could feel himself relax. As Arthur spoke of sorcery, not as something evil, Merlin felt his stomach unclench. As Arthur said he would receive no punishment, everything around him seemed to spin, but in a good way, in a soft, happy way. He was completely, entirely <em>safe</em>. Then Arthur apologised and Merlin felt a warm fire kindle in his core. Arthur, who rarely acknowledged any emotion or fault, was apologising, his eyes sincere and raw. Merlin could do nothing but lean forward and hug him. His arms wrapped around Arthur’s back, fingers resting against his skin, and though at first the latter hesitated, he soon wrapped his arms around Merlin too, seemingly melting into the embrace. His head rested on Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin’s did the same. They remained like that, by the golden light of the fire and blue-white light of the moon, until Merlin moved away. He could still feel the shadow of warmth from where Arthur had been.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you’re not going to punish me, what will you do?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing. You will remain my manservant, and my friend, though perhaps you can be more open about your magic in future,” He smiles slightly. “My father cannot know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin feels his chest go cold with a realisation, “Arthur, the other knights?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They saw me, when you were fighting the Saxons, they know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They won’t have told the king, they wouldn’t do that, I am sure of it, and certainly not without having spoken to me. When we return, we will have to have some form  of... conversation with them, but I am sure that they will come to accept it, perhaps more quickly than me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin nods and turns back to the fire.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur does not look away from Merlin. He can’t, he doesn’t want to. He watches as the dancing flames paint Merlin’s slightly pink cheeks amber and the darkness of the night highlights the structure of his face. The bruises and cuts that cover his face are still obvious, but somehow in this lighting less so. Arthur wants Merlin to speak, to say something, to show that maybe they can go back to normal, because there is nothing that he wants more than that. He wants to banter and joke and laugh and be friends, and he knows that it is far more his fault than Merlin’s that that was lost, but he can’t force Merlin to go back to that, not if he doesn’t want to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The silence is broken by Merlin’s soft voice. “Thank you and I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have no need to apologise, Merlin, I though that that was obvious. I’m the only one who did anything wrong.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Your upbringing was not your fault. You have shown time and time again that you are a good person. I know you will be a good king.”</p><p class="p2">   Arthur rests his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, clasping it. “Thank you, Merlin, and when I am, magic will be at the heart of Camelot.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin feels warmth rise. Magic will be at the heart of Camelot. Not only is Arthur fine with his magic, he’s willing to let it be central to Camelot. Perhaps the Golden Age is not too far away. Perhaps his destiny will unfold soon. For now, though, he just wants to return to friends with Arthur.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin looks at Arthur, who has a vague smile on his lips, and registers the intimacy of the moment. Not only have they both made quite significant emotional declarations within the past few minutes, but Arthur is also sitting shirtless, with his arm on Merlin, and their bodies are separated by mere centimetres. He looks away as he feels his cheeks flush.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I could, if you think, if you don’t mind, it would be possible for me to, er, dry the shirt, you know, with magic, then you don’t have to freeze... If that’s okay that is.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur doesn’t say anything, just leans over the fire and picks up the shirt holding it out in front of Merlin. The latter stretches out his fingers and feels his eyes glow. Steam evaporates off the fabric. Arthur’s eyes widen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That was... impressive.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I, er, I don’t think I’ll fit in it, so you might have to change out of my shirt.” Arthur chuckles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin feels his cheeks flush. “Yes, sorry, of course.” He slips his arms out of the sleeves and pulls it over his head, handing it to Arthur, and suddenly feeling a rush of cold hitting him. He shivers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur hands </span>
  <span class="s1">him the recently dried shirt as he pulls on his own. “We should probably get some sleep, it has been a long few days for both of us.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">   Merlin nods once his head emerges from the fabric. That is certainly an understatement. But he doesn’t want to move away from the fire and move away from the protection of Arthur. He’s still on edge and he’s sure that if anything bad were to happen he wouldn’t make it out of it alive, certainly not on his own, malnourishment and injury has made him far too weak for that. Neither of them move.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur doesn’t want to sleep, he knows he needs to, but he doesn’t want to, what if something happens to Merlin while his eyes are shut? He doesn’t want to succumb to the darkness and his exhaustion, lest it bring them danger, nevertheless, he must, so he straightens his legs, standing up, then turning to offer a hand to Merlin, who takes it. His skin feels cold and the force with which he pulls himself up with Arthur’s help is minimal. Merlin’s steps are small and slow, but Arthur matches his pace, making sure to be there just in case Merlin were to fall. Arthur knows Merlin’s power, his strength, his magic, now, and, yet, now is the time he feels most afraid that Merlin will be hurt. </span>
</p><p class="p2">   Arthur gestures for Merlin to lie down under the cover of a small lip of rock, he, for once, obeys. Arthur follows, resting on the ground on Merlin’s left, attempting to protect Merlin, as much as he can, from wind and cold. He feels his tiredness pressing on his eyelids, but he also feels Merlin shivering beside him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin is cold. There is but a thin tunic between him and the earth and its wintry temperature seeps through him. He shivers and his teeth chatter. He needs to sleep, he can tell by the ache of his eyes, but the cold tenses his muscles and forces him awake. Suddenly, he feels a warm arm wrap around his torso.</span>
</p><p class="p2">   “Sleep, Merlin.” Arthur says, slightly groggily.</p><p class="p2">   Merlin turns in Arthur’s arm, tucking himself in closer, and facing him. The pressure of the arm on his abdomen is comforting and the air between them is warm and Merlin’s eyelids begin to droop...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m not sure how coherent this was, I feel like it didn’t make much sense, sorry, please leave a comment and let me know your opinion if you’re happy to</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the long gap between chapters, I haven't really been feeling it but I think I'm back into it which is good! I hope you enjoy this!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Arthur wakes up when the pale light of dawn filters through his eyelids. He feels rested and serene. Merlin’s head and a half-curled hand are resting upon his chest, and his hair is sticking up in all different directions. Arthur feels his chest swell and he smiles softly at his friend, eyes closed, calm. His injuries seem nonexistent compared to the relaxed position of his brow and the little turned up corners of his lips.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">They should start to move soon, Arthur wants to be out of the woods by the end of the day and they’re not exactly going to travel very quickly. His plan is to find a village and stay in a tavern for the night, it will give them the chance to rest properly and have a hot meal. But he also doesn’t want to wake Merlin up, he’s been through a lot and he deserves to sleep, so Arthur just lies there, on the earth, looking up at the canopy of leaves turning bright green, spring is arriving. Subconsciously, his hand begins to move back and forth gently over Merlin’s scalp.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">-</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Merlin wakes up slowly. It takes him a few moments to register that the surface on which his head rests is Arthur’s chest and, subsequently, that the breathing he feels is Arthur’s. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, as if opening his eyes would force him into being back in the world, he doesn’t think he’s quite ready yet, but clearly Arthur noticed him waking up.</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p1">“Merlin,” He says quietly, “We’ll need to be on our way soon.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Merlin nods. They both rise and stand, there is no camp for them to pack up, so once Arthur places on his mail and picks up his sword, they start to walk.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">-</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Arthur has a vague idea of the direction they should be walking in. He knows that the initial battle near the ridge was north east of Camelot, and that he headed roughly in a similar direction when he followed the tracks, so he tries to walk as south westerly as possible. He walks slowly, checking on Merlin every few seconds. They are quiet, not having quite returned to where they used to be, and both still exhausted, but the silence makes the air heavy and Arthur hates it.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Tell me about your magic, Merlin.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You heard me, tell me about your magic, I want to know about it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Are you sure you...”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“<em>Yes</em>, and I’m the prince, Merlin, you have to do what I say. Tell me about your magic.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Okay. I’ve had it my whole life, like I told you, I was born with it, apparently that’s not normal and most people learn sorcery by choice but I didn’t know that until I came to Camelot. I’ve been using it since before I could talk. My mum has this story,” He chuckles lightly in a way that makes Arthur’s heart feel light, “When I was just a few months old, I was crying and crying and she couldn’t work out what I wanted, she offered me food, tried to get me to sleep, you know, all the basic stuff, and I just wouldn’t stop, then she saw my eyes go gold and an old blanket came floating towards me, she turned that into a little toy bear, it’s still at my old home in Ealdor, it used to help me sleep.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Arthur is staring intently at his manservant, a small smile on his face. He’s picturing little baby Merlin summoning a piece of old cloth and hugging it, then slightly older Merlin with the teddy bear made especially for him, snuggled up in bed, then he looks at the Merlin beside him, painted red by scabs and bruises and feels his stomach drop. There’s no room left for innocence, he supposes. “That’s a sweet tale, I don’t have many of them, my childhood was all sword fights and horse riding.” He says it in a lighthearted tone but there’s longing beneath it, longing for a childhood that wasn’t just about him being the future king and a knight, longing to know what it is to feel free.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He suspects Merlin notices it because his eyes soften and what had been a reminiscent smile moments before turns into a sympathetic frown, he places a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and opens his mouth as if to speak but before he can, Arthur exclaims excitedly. “Look, that’s the edge of the Forest, we’re almost out!” Arthur’s hope is renewed as he spots the open fields beyond the dark wood and his pace quickens to a jog.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Merlin speeds up to catch up but quickly his wounds prevent him from doing so and he runs out of breath. “Arthur-“ He puffs out, “Wait... I... can’t... go... that.. fast.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Oh, sorry, I'll, er, I'll slow down.” He slows and walks back to Merlin, who is resting, leant you against a tree. “I just got excited.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I know, you’re like a fucking puppy.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Arthur elbows him, much more lightly than usual though, afraid of hurting his fragile friend.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Merlin’s head feels hot and his eyes just want to shut but he can’t, he knows he can’t, he’s just so tired.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Arthur’s eyes are following his every breath, full of concern. “We’re nearly out of the forest, once we are, it shouldn’t be too far to a village of some sort, then we’ll have somewhere proper to sleep. And we can rest all day tomorrow if you need it, but we’ve got to get some proper food in our bellies, eh? I certainly do.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Merlin nods because it’s all he can do really, although Arthur’s jovial smile does blast him with a little extra energy. He pushes himself away from the tree and starts walking forward again, ache in each step. He clenches his jaw and pushes on.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Merlin thanks the gods that Arthur was right. Almost as soon as they cross the border between forest and field, they can see a village, and a sizeable one too, it would normally be about half an hour’s walk away, but at this speed probably quadruple that, nonetheless, it’s uplifting, and what’s even more uplifting is the small smile Arthur shoots back to him as they spot it.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Nearly there.” He mutters under his breath. Merlin suspects It wasn’t meant for his ears but he’s always listening to Arthur, he’s trained to his every word.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Nearly there.” Merlin repeats.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Arthur turns, a slightly surprised look on his face, but it softens quickly and he gestures for them to continue.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Just over two hours later, they reach the crest of the hill and the border of the village, if it can be called that, it’s hardly a hamlet really. A dark haired, middle aged man is doing some sort of digging in his pig pen— Arthur’s never known very much about farming. He looks up, wiping some sweat off his brow, then jumps, spotting the two men; knights aren’t very common in their part of the kingdom, certainly not knights of Camelot, and especially not accompanied by people who look halfway to death as Merlin does.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“To what do I owe the pleasure, I’m Gyrth.” He reaches out his hand, then pulls it back, seemingly thinking better of it. “You probably don’t want to shake that, manure and all.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’ve seen much worse than manure in the last few days.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I can tell.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Arthur’s a little offended by that, he can’t blame the man, he supposes, what with Merlin’s extensive injuries, and he probably doesn’t look his best either. “I’m Arthur,” He gestures to his right. “This is Merlin, we’ve suffered quite an ordeal and we’re trying to find somewhere to stay for the night, do you know of anywhere nearby?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yes, of course, that building there,” He points to a small, stone building, “Is a tavern, they have a couple of rooms.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Thank you.” Arthur nods curtly.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A small path is worn into the damp grass, the footfall of villagers leaving its mark. Arthur walks down it, closely followed by Merlin. He enters the tavern, it’s empty, unsurprising since it’s mid afternoon, all the people will be out working, tending to their fields and animals. There is a man cleaning tables though, he’s old, with white hair and a thick moustache. He has a similar reaction to the farmer outside when he notices the pair, but hides it swiftly and walks over.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“How may I help you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“We were told you had a room.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yes, we do, just the one, and it’s not large but it’s clean and there’s a hearth-“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“We’ll take it,” Arthur says, cutting the man off. He doesn’t want to be rude but he is tired and is already struggling to listen. “One issue, though, we don’t have any money with us, we have had more... <em>pressing</em> matters than money the last few days, but I can promise you that I will return with the necessary payment.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Oh, there is no need, I am happy to help, I can see you probably haven’t had time to think of money recently.” He chuckles. “I will happily provide you a bed and food for no cost.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Nonsense, we will pay. I give you my word.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Thank you, sir.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Please could you show us to the room.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yes, of course.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The first thing that Merlin notices when he enters the room is that there is a bed. A real, proper bed, with pillows and sheets and everything. The second thing he notices is that there is only one of them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Can we light the fire before anything else?” He asks when the innkeeper closes the door and leaves. “The floor will warmer that way.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You have shoes on Merlin, surely the temperature of the floor isn't that urgent?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Well, I suppose it's not all that urgent but it'll take some time for the flagstones to be warm and I know I can't make requests but I would sort of prefer it if they were warm for me by tonight.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You’re not going to sleep on the floor, Merlin.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m not? But you’re the Crown Prince, you can hardly—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Merlin, I’m not going to sleep on the floor either, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Oh.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Arthur is going to sleep in the same bed as him. Arthur is going to sleep in the same bed as him. <em>Arthur</em> is going to sleep in the same bed as <em>him</em>. Merlin knows that his panic is a bit melodramatic, hell, he slept in Arthur’s arms last night, but this is <em>different</em>, it’s a bed, it’s inside. It’s real.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It’s not like Arthur’s going to change his mind though and perhaps sharing a bed with Arthur will be… nice. Merlin blinks himself back to reality to see Arthur lighting a fire.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“That’s my job.” He blurts out.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Maybe normally, but you are currently severely wounded and, oh yes, you were held captive for about a week. Just this once, Merlin, I think I’ll do it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">––</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A few hours later, after they have warmed up, cleaned up (slightly) and eaten - although Merlin very slowly - the pair are getting into bed. Arthur waits until Merlin seems comfortable before getting in himself. His manservant remains rigidly on his back, Arthur mimics before realising that that is <em>not</em> a position in which he will be able to get to sleep. He blows out the candle beside the bed then turns on his side to face Merlin, who turns his head to look at him, a softly confused look pulling his eyebrows down slightly.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Goodnight, Merlin.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Night”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Arthur closes his eyes. A few minutes later he feels Merlin rolling over onto his side towards the centre of the bed. He smiles as he falls asleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please let me know what you think, it's been a while, sorry about that! (Yes, I did do 'there was only one bed', no I am not ashamed) The next chapter should be coming relatively soon.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my first work, I’m not sure how long it’ll be (or how good) and I’m still working out exactly how to post fan fictions but I hope people enjoy this! Even just a little bit. Please leave comments, negative ones too, I’d like to improve.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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